


Make Me Smile

by laurially



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: M/M, Soft boys being soft, oneshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-14 01:57:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16030625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laurially/pseuds/laurially
Summary: Garrett Watts & Andrew Siwicki Oneshots





	1. I Don't Mind

**Author's Note:**

> Or; 4 Times Garrett wears Andrew's hat + 1 Time Andrew wears one of his.

1\. " _God_ , Andrew, why did we have to sit outside?"

"Uh, because you wanted to have a front row seat to any potential passing horses?"

"Okay, well, me of ten minutes ago was a fool, Andrew, a damn _fool_ ," Garrett waves one of his fries around while he talks, gesticulating wildly, "I mean, honestly, even if any horses were to trot on by, I wouldn't be able to see them with the dang sun shining right into my eyes."

Andrew considers this for a moment; he and Garrett are sat at the only outdoor table that had been left when they arrived at the restaurant - the same one Garrett had dragged the whole squad along to after picking up Morgan from the airport - and it really provided no shade whatsoever from the June, midday sun.

Garrett's laughing now, back to his usual easygoing nature and enjoying his food like nothing's wrong, but Andrew can see him squinting against the harsh light, the way he shuffles around in his seat and slouches down to try and take cover in his friend's shadow. He feels a little guilty for a moment, sat with his back to the sun, snapback turned backwards and pulled low to cover his neck, sunglasses firmly in place on the bridge of his nose. He makes a decision.

It's slow and a little unsure that he pulls the hat from his own head and moves it onto that of the other man, but he is certain he has made the right move when Garrett's face blooms into the most brilliant smile and he coos a drawn-out "Andreewwww", insisting he's such a sweetie and thanks him repeatedly.

Andrew can feel his cheeks heating up with a pink blush he'll blame on the heat, and he chuckles, waving off the praise with a flick of his hand and a bright smile of his own.

Later, when he gets home, he can feel the sting of sunburn on the back of his neck. He decides not to mention it to Garrett, because he really doesn't mind. 

It was worth it.

 

2\. No matter how many times he is witness to it, Andrew always finds it a little disconcerting seeing Garrett break out his 'Cool Guy' impression.

It's funny, don't get him wrong, and he laughs along with the rest of the Squad when Garrett starts using his Straight Voice TM, accompanied by Ryland's exasperated "ohmygod"s, but it's still a little strange to watch his best friend slip into this character that is so completely the opposite of himself.

He's so deep in his contemplation that Andrew barely registers it when Garrett first approaches him - or, rather, swaggers towards him - until he's plucking the Kansas City cap from his head.

"Hey!" he calls, reaching out a hand for it, but it's already firmly pushed onto that taller's head, tilted to an odd sideways angle.

"Chill, bro, no harms, no harms." Garrett throws up a backward peace sign, arms crossed and shoulders slouched, "just chill vibes here, bruh."

Morgan cackles. Shane rolls his eyes. Ryland carries on with his "ohmygod"s, but there's an amused tone to them.

Andrew smiles and shakes his head, knowing it'll be a while before he's the one wearing his own hat again, but finding he doesn't really mind.

 

3\. It doesn't happen again for a little while, not until Shane has dragged the whole group down to Sephora to get supplies and film a little in preparation for an upcoming video. 

Everything seems as it normally is, the friends joking and laughing together as they walk, howling as Morgan trips over seemingly nothing for the third time since they walked through the doors, but something's a little off.

It's Garrett, Andrew realises, walking a good half step behind them rather than by Andrew's side as he usually would be, laughing along with the rest but clearly not paying attention to what he's actually meant to be laughing at.

"Hey, man, you good?" Andrew asks him quietly, pausing in his stride for a moment so he is walking level with Garrett, still just a step behind the rest of their group.

"Of course, Andrew, I'm dandy" He smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes the way a Garret Smile usually would, and Andrew can tell there's little truth behind his words. Still, he respects his friend's boundaries, and he drops the subject for the time being.

That is until they're walking past the Benefit counter and Andrew spies Garrett pausing briefly to look into one of the many small mirrors lining the aisle, furrowing his brow before continuing to follow the group. It's odd, but Andrew tells himself it's nothing - and then it happens again, and again, and again, until he's looking into the mirror for the _eighth time in five minutes_ and now he's rearranging his hair none stop.

"Garrett," Andrew hisses, trying not to draw the attention of their friends as he has to slow again for Garrett to meet his stride, "what is going on, man? You can't walk past your own reflection and your playing with your hair like a high school girl with a crush, got a hot date or something?", even as he says it, there's a bitter taste in his mouth, but Andrew chooses to ignore that for the time being.

"HA! Andrew, you're ridiculous, of course I don't," Andrew can't see what's ridiculous about that at all, and that's definitely something they'll be addressing later, but by _God_ does he get this overwhelming wave of relief.

"What is it then?" 

"It's just - oh, you're going to think this is so silly what with all your.." Garrett trails off for a moment, waving his hand up and down Andrew's body, "perfectness - but I woke up this morning and my hair was exactly the same way it is every day but I just hated it, and I tried to comb it and gel it and style it but nothing worked and then I ran out of time before I got it figured out, so now I'm feeling a little conscious of it", his hands reach up unconsciously to fiddle with his hair, now mussed from running his hands through it too much.

"Garrett, your hair looks the same every day, I-" 

"Exactly!" Garrett cuts him off, "it looks like this all. the. dang. Time! It's gross, meaning I, by extension, am also gross"

"Okay, so you're having a bad hair day, that doesn't mean you're-" Andrew tries to reassure his friend, but he's interrupted again.

"Bad hair DAY? Andrew, I'm having a bad hair _life_! At this point, I think I'm going to have to chop it all off, maybe I can get Shane's friend to do me up with one of those bald caps so I can get a feel for-" It's Garrett's turn to be cut off now, the words dying in his throat as he feels a sudden pressure on the top of his head.

"There!" Andrew states, waving to the hat he's just removed from his own head and pushed down onto Garrett's, "now you can't see your hair and neither can anyone else, not that there was anything wrong with it in the first place - I love your hair." 

Both men freeze, making a split second of eye contact before Andrew breaks it with an awkward cough and burning cheeks - he had not meant to say that much.

"Oh, well I-" Garrett pauses, and it's odd to see him at a loss for words, "thank you, Andrew, and, uh, thank you for, you know," he points up to his head, "the hat."

"Sure thing." 

Andrew has hat hair for the rest of the afternoon, but he doesn't mind, barely even notices.

They walk on.

 

4\. Every time Andrew gives Garrett his hat - or, as the case may be, has hit hat plucked from his head by the other man - he is always guaranteed to get it back. 

Sometimes it takes a little while; Garrett is prone to forgetting things, or he lets the hats get mixed in with his clutter, but he always, always brings them back eventually. 

Andrew's grateful for it, don't get him wrong, it means his ever growing hat collection is never lacking, the shelf he keeps them all lined up on always full, but, sometimes, he thinks he wouldn't mind too much if he was one short. Not if that one was being worn by someone he knows would cherish it and keep it well looked after, keep it safe. He wouldn't mind if Garrett had his hea- _hat_. If Garrett had his hat. 

The thought surprises him a little, considering how annoyed he used to get when girlfriends would wear some article of his clothing - a jumper, sweats, a pair of sunglasses - and he only ever saw them again when whichever girl he was seeing at the time would wear it around the house, trying to be cute. But, with Garrett, it's different, in more ways than one. 

For a start, they're not in a relationship (although the thought brings this warm feeling to his chest that he will. not. address), and Garrett's not one to try and flaunt around in any way, but the biggest difference is how much Andrew really, really doesn't mind the idea of Garrett wearing one of his hats. On a regular basis. Maybe even all the time.

And not only does he not mind, he likes it. God, does he like it. 

So one day, when the pair are lounging around Andrew's apartment, and Garrett's rifling through the hat shelf, trying each one on at a different odd angle, and Andrew's laughing like he doesn't laugh for anyone else, he finds himself reaching out a hand to push the cap back onto the taller man's head as he moves to take it off.

"You should keep that one," he says, flicking his eyes up to the article and smiling shyly.

"Oh, no, Andrew I couldn't," and he's reaching to take the hat off again, which just will not do, so Andrew's hand shoots out and grabs ahold of Garrett's before he can get within an inch of the cap's brim.

"I insist, it, uh - it looks better on you anyway," suddenly, he's not so sure of himself, and he's beginning to retract his hand when it becomes enveloped between two larger ones.

"We both know that's a lie but, thank you, I love it," Garrett's smile is blinding and Andrew can't help but match it. 

He only realises later, as he's glancing up to the hat still firmly sat atop Garrett's head, that he's just given away his favourite hat - the green and black Kansas City cap, a staple for him - but he really, truly, does not mind one little bit. 

He also realises they're still holding hands. He doesn't mind that, either.

 

+1 It's only fair, Garrett thinks, that if he is to go on wearing Andrew's hats with increasing frequency that he return the favour every now and then. And he has just the hat for the job.

They're sitting together on Garrett's little brown couch, watching Infinity War as it's projected onto the wall. Nothing about the situation is new for them, and yet there's a different feel to it than the norm, a shift in the air. There's a little less space between them, heads tilted a little more towards each other, cheeks tinted a little bit pink, both aware but neither knowing how to move further into this new territory.

Garrett opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out, and he clears his throat, moving his hand to cover his mouth while he mulls over the proper way to start this conversation. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Andrew turn towards him just a touch, his lips parting but they close again just as quickly, and the moment passes as his eyes return to the screen.

Words clearly aren't going to cut it, then, so Garrett's going to have to get creative.

Glancing around, he spies Andrew's - now his - hat perched atop the shelf by the door, right below his key hook, and inspiration strikes. 

He rises from the couch, ignoring Andrew's confused _"whaa?"_ as he marches towards the door and pulls the hat on over his unruly hair. For a moment, Andrew is sure he's about to walk straight out of his own home with no explanation, but then he's headed off into his room with that same purposeful stride, and the movie is forgotten as the ginger turns fully to watch his friend.

As quickly as he'd left the room, Garrett is returning, looking as determined as he ever has, a hat clutched in his right hand.

He approaches the couch, presenting it out to Andrew without a word, waiting for him to take it rather than pushing it straight onto his head.

Andrew's slower in reaching out for it, not sure what exactly is going on or where this sudden turn in the night has come from, but when he turns the article to face him and sees the logo on the front something just clicks.

The hat is a pale blue, with Levi's written in white stitching surrounded encased in a small rainbow. He considers it for barely a moment before he's lifting it up to rest atop his head, and then he's looking up to meet Garrett's eyes.

The latter smiles and Andrew returns it in kind. It's soft and sweet and this strange mix of unsure and certain that sparks a little flare of delight in the pit of his belly and okay. 

Garrett sits back down. The space between them gets a little bit smaller. Their heads lean a little bit closer. Hands reaching a little bit further.

No words are exchanged, but they both know what's happening here. They smile.


	2. If I lay here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Andrew is too afraid to sleep on the Queen Mary, but Garrett knows exactly what to do.

**Inspired by this tumblr post from garrettsiwicki  
https://garrettsiwicki.tumblr.com/post/178187787536/underappreciated-gandrew-moment-that-nobody-talks**

Andrew walked onto the Queen Mary with low expectations. 

Not for the video, of course; he knew Shane could turn any piece of footage into a viral sensation, but he highly doubted any of that footage would include anything of the paranormal variety.

God, did he hope he was right.

-

He was decidedly _not right._

They’ve not even been aboard the ship a full hour before he’s standing in a pitch black wardrobe, asking ghosts to “say something” just a short while after confessing to Shane and the squad how terrified he used to be of this sort of thing. If asked he could give absolutely no good reason for why he was openly inviting whatever spirits were clearly inhabiting that particular space to come out to play. 

When Shane came out of the closet, claiming to have heard a sound against the inner wall he had thought he was joking, or at least playing it up for the cameras, but then he watches Garrett, Morgan and Ryland follow suit and they all seem far too spooked to be pretending. 

And now he’s the one standing in the dark and there’s a tapping next to his head, goosebumps on his arms and a pounding in his chest. He fights the urge to burst out through the doors, instead walking out as calm and collected as he can, but his hand trembles when he steps over the threshold.

Things only get worse from there.

_God_ , he wonders, _how did I get so unlucky?_

-

In one night, he’s seen lights turn on and off with no explanation, doors swinging open and slamming shut from across the room, listened through God knows how many recordings of unexplainable sounds and voices, watched Morgan and Ryland almost get murdered by an ancient bunk bed and is one hundred and ten percent done.

Then 1:00am rolls around and Shane suggests they go to bed and get some sleep for a couple of hours.

HA! Andrew doesn’t think he’ll ever sleep again. Just blinking feels like his eyes are shut for too long on this stupid boat.

Shane, Ryland and Morgan all cram into the same large bed, covering themselves up with the nice looking thick duvet and huddling together - ‘there’s safety in numbers’, that’s what Morgan says when Garrett raises one eyebrow at the trio.

Safety in numbers, and he’s sleeping alone on the tiny little couch. Huh.

“Well, good night, I guess” Andrew says quietly, looking to Garrett, still stood with him in the small room containing the tiny, two seater couch. He curls up as tight as he can to fit somewhat comfortably facing the back of the sofa, where he can pretend he’s at home, in his own bed.

“Night, Andrew,” Garrett responds, and in the next instant the lights are being flicked off, but no footsteps are heard leaving the room and Andrew can still feel his friend’s presence in the space. 

“Garrett?” He calls out, craning his neck to see what the other is doing. There’s the sound of shuffling for a moment and then it seems Garrett has settled on the floor beside the couch, his back leaning lazily against it. 

“Shh, get some sleep, Andrew,” is the only response he gets, then he hears what sounds like pages turning and - is he holding a book?

“Can you even see the words, dude?” Andrew asks incredulously, becoming more and more confused.

“I can just about make them out, yes. Now, turn back over and close your eyes.” 

Andrew thinks that’s it, end of conversation, but then Garrett starts speaking again, “The event that came to be known as The Pulse began at 3:03 p.m., Eastern Standard Time, on the afternoon of-”

“Are you reading to me?” he interrupts, once again turning around to stare at his ever confusing friend, “Are you seriously reading a Stephen King book to me, right now?”

Garrett sighs and Andrew can hear his eyes rolling, “Yes, Andrew, I’m very sorry but I’m rather lacing in bedtime stories, so this is the best you’re going to get, now _go to sleep_.”

Andrew considers saying something else but then reconsiders, assessing their current situation - Garrett, rather than going to his own bed in the maid’s quarters, is sitting at the end of the couch, bolt upright and reading aloud to him , waiting for him to fall asleep. A warm feeling fills his chest.

For a moment, he feels selfish, and is about to tell Garrett that he needs sleep, too, and that he should go to bed but then he remembers Morgan’s words from earlier; there’s safety in numbers. He doesn’t say a word. 

Two pages in and Andrew is sound asleep.

When Shane comes into the room two hours later, voice far too loud and torch way too bright, Garrett is still sat on the floor, wide awake, clutching at his book and cradling Benjamin. 

-

Another couple of hours pass before they finally retire back to the room, finished with their ghost hunt, hopefully for good. Andrew had spent the remainder of their time wandering the halls of the ship constantly on edge, jumping at the slightest sound or movement, only calming down when Garrett would reach out to him - always _just_ out of the range of the camera - and squeeze his fingers or lay a reassuring hand on his shoulder. It was nice to know someone was right there beside him, even nicer that that someone was Garrett, and his nerves were calmed, if only slightly, by his constant presence.

Now though, the panic is starting to seep back in around the edges of his mind, as he watches Shane, Ryland and Morgan walk into the bedroom together - door shut firmly behind them - and Garrett makes his way back down the corridor towards the maid’s quarters. 

Andrew turns to consider the couch, then the empty room, and he can’t help but catalogue every dark corner and creaking pipe as he does a quick visual sweep of the area. Thank God for the couple hours of rest he got earlier, because the chances of him getting to sleep again with his mind in a state of terrified overdrive are slim.

There’s a creak from behind him and he spins to find the source of the offending sound, almost making himself dizzy with the speed of it, only to see Garrett has reappeared in the room, only now he’s clutching onto two white pillows and two matching sheets, clearly pulled from the bed he is supposed to be occupying.

“Garrett, you scared the life out of me! I thought you’d gone to bed! What are you doing?”

Garrett tips his head to the side, furrowing his brow like he’s the one confused right now and responds, “Andrew, you didn’t really think I was just going to leave you out here, did you?”

“I-” he pauses, not knowing how to reply to that. Yes, he had thought that, though he’s not sure how he possibly could have. This is Garrett.

It seems, though, that he doesn’t need to find any words as Garrett simply nods once and sets to work, throwing one of the pillows and sheets onto the couch whilst laying the others down on the floor alongside it.

Only as Garrett’s lowering himself down onto the floor does Andrew come back to himself, “hey, wait, no, I can’t ask you to sleep on the floor!” 

 

“You’re not asking, I’m choosing.” he shrugs his shoulders like it’s nothing, like the obvious choice any sane person would make in a situation like this - at four in the morning, when they haven’t slept since the day before - would be to set up camp on the carpet rather than in the perfectly comfortable - albeit, somewhat creepy - bed down the hall.

“No, man, you can’t! You didn’t get any rest earlier when the rest of us were asleep, not to mention how bad you’ll mess your back up if you lie on the ground for the rest of the night!” 

The last thing he expects - despite the words coming out of his own mouth - is for Garrett to sigh and turn himself around, walking back down to his little room by the front door. 

_What the hell was I thinking,_ Andrew wonders, still staring at the spot from which Garrett just disappeared, _not ten minutes ago I was freaking out over having to stay in this stupid room alone and now I’ve chased my friend out as he was offering to stay with me, stupid, stupid stupid!_  
He turns to do another look around the room, making sure nothing has mysteriously switched places whilst he hasn’t been watching, when he notices the pillow and sheet still thrown haphazardly on the ground next to the couch. Tentatively, he picks them up, about to return them to Garrett, because, _surely_ , he doesn’t intend on sleeping without them, right? 

Before he can even take a step in that direction, a dirty blonde head is poking through the doorway, and there’s Garrett again, traipsing back down the hallway but now he’s dragging something big and white and _is that a mattress?_

“There,” he states, rather unceremoniously tossing it down beside the couch, “now I won’t be sleeping on the floor.”

_God,_ Andrew wonders, _how did I get so lucky?_

(Garrett’s presence in the room soothes him, easing his worries away, but he’ll admit - if only to himself - that maybe, just maybe, he plays up the fear a little bit as they’re settling down to sleep; Andrew on the couch, Garrett on the mattress right beside him. He can’t bring himself to feel guilty about it, though, not when there’s a warm hand reaching up to wrap around one of his own and a soft voice whispering Stephen King;s Cell like it really is a bedtime story. Maybe he could get used to this whole ghost hunting thing.)

 

**That ending, though, ew, I’m sorry.  
Thanks for reading, sisters!**

**Rather unrelated side note, if part 2 of Garrett’s new video is not the set up for a surprise date for Andrew, I am unstanning.**


	3. Your Silence is the Loudest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I could not accept that Andrew just happened to not be laughing during any of the moments where Garrett and Jeffree were on screen together in tswojs series, so here's a very rough fic about it

Andrew Siwicki’s laugh has become as much an icon to Shane’s viewers as the man himself and no video is complete without hearing the distinct giggle from behind the lens.

There was a time when Andrew was pretty self-conscious about his laugh, and still feels that way now on occasion, but when he’s with these people, filming and cracking jokes, he feels comfortable.

He becomes especially very aware of it, though, when the footage has all been filmed and he’s in the long editing process, trying to cut around the sound of his own laughter. Andrew has known for a long time that he laughs  _ a lot _ around The Squad but it’s when he’s sifting through hours and hours of recordings that he notices how much the sound is brought out of him by one  _ particular _ member of the group.

No points for guessing which one.

Now, he’s sitting at Shane and Ryland’s dining table, alongside the former, with there laptops on the table in front of them alongside a stack of external hard drives and three notepads, working through the Jeffree Star footage - their most ambitious project yet - and he’s laughing along with his former self as Garrett spins around in that ridiculous Gucci tracksuit on the screen.

“Hmm.” he hears, glancing up to see Shane eyeing him and then his own screen, back and forth, as if working through some sort of conundrum.

“What?” Andrew asks, leaning over towards Shane to see what’s on the laptop that seems to have him so confused. He thinks it’s the [clip](https://youtu.be/MhTw1SUxWTA?t=352) of Garrett and Jeffree sprawled across that old couch outside of Jeffree’s old place, but Shane turns it away before Andrew can get a good look.

“Just something off about the footage I couldn’t figure out, but I think I know what it is now,” he’s still side-eyeing Andrew whilst clicking away on his computer, eyes narrowed just slightly and the beginnings of a smirk at the corner of his mouth.

“Oh, do we need to reshoot something? I mean, it’s a little late, but I’m sure we could work something out,” Andrew scratches behind his ear, then moves his hand down to rub nervously along the back of his neck - the thought of adding more work onto themselves when their deadline is already approaching far faster than they can keep up with has him worried.

“No, no, it’s nothing like that, just- well, here, I’m going to pull up a clip and you tell me what you think, okay?” before Andrew can form a response or express his still present confusion, Shane is tapping away on his keyboard and turning the laptop screen back so that they can both see it.

He presses play and the [footage](https://youtu.be/MLvb3pWk-rU?t=434) starts in Jeffree’s mansion, at the bottom of a winding staircase, and he recalls what is about to happen immediately. On screen, Shane is dressed head to toe in Gucci, with a full face of makeup and a blonde wig on his head, calling out for Nate. They flirt in a way that’s both awkward and hilarious, Shane’s cry of “come kiss mama” making Andrew laugh quietly, the sound overshadowed by his own much louder giggles playing through the speakers as the scene unfolds.

Shane pauses, then, and without a word he moves onto another piece of footage. In this [clip](https://youtu.be/xUf2-sjGqQw?t=1348), Shane has just uncovered Jeffree’s snack cupboard and they’re sharing a pot of frosting and Oreos when they manage to move onto what Andrew assumes is a joke about Jeffree and Nate having plans for him later, which Shane chips into with a comment about all of them giving him head. He hears his own nervous cackling being played back to him and remembers how surreally hilarious the whole moment was, making him chuckle lightly and shake his head fondly. He’s wondering, though, why exactly he is being made to rewatch these pieces of footage when he can’t see anything particularly wrong with them.

When he looks over to question him, Shane seems to be analysing Andrew more than he is the footage before them, with a slightly raised eyebrow, the look on his face having evolved into that of someone on the verge of cracking a secret code.

“Hmmmm.”

Andrew’s eyes narrow, and he opens his mouth to ask just what it is that’s causing his friend to use up valuable editing time like this, the hands on the clock ticking further and further along, but Shane raises one hand to shush him and then returns to clicking along to another clip.

Before the video even starts, Andrew recognises what it’s going to be and an uneasy feeling twists in his gut, but he refuses to put a name to it.

It’s the same clip he caught Shane pouring over earlier, with Garrett and Jeffree sitting together on that gross, abandoned couch at the side of the road, smiling and touching like they’ve known each other far longer than the few short hours it had been since they’d met. The way Jeffree talks is obviously flirtatious and boarding on inappropriate but Garrett drinks up the attention, laughing along and cracking self-deprecating jokes that would usually send Andrew into a fit of giggles. He waits, expecting to hear his own distinct laugh among the chorus of his friends, but it doesn’t come, and no sound comes from his present self either.

Now he’s at his breaking point, ready to turn and ask Shane to get to his point already when the man in question plays [another](https://youtu.be/MhTw1SUxWTA?t=2029) snippet of footage, and [another](https://youtu.be/9q2PgfYbppY?t=593), and another, all with the same running theme.

Garrett and Jeffree, wrapped up in each other, both physically and metaphorically. One making overtly sexual references and the other laughing along, still delightfully surprised by the other’s flirtations. Andrew doesn’t hear a peep out of himself through any of it.

Finally, when one clip ends and nothing begins after it, Andrew leans back in his chair. His hand rises instinctively to rub the back of his neck, staring at the now blank screen before him.

“So,” Shane begins, “anything you want to get off your chest?”

“I-” Andrew pauses, exhaling long and slow, before sitting up straight and turning fully to face his friend, “what do you want me to say, man?”

“I want you to say whatever you want to say, Andrew. Do you have feelings for Garrett?”

He knows the answer instantly, but it’s still the most difficult question he’s ever been asked, and he flounders for a few uncomfortable moments, mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“Okay, scratch that,” Shane interrupts his turmoil, “how do you feel about Garrett and Jeffree?”

“Well, I don’t think anything actually came from their flirting, so-”

“No, okay, let’s try again. How do you feel about the  _ idea  _ of them?” his stare is intense and unwavering, but there’s nothing malicious in his string of questions and Andrew doesn’t feel pressured, just unsure. A weight lands on his shoulder, and he looks over to find Shane’s hand laying there, a show of camaraderie and support.

“Whatever this is Andrew, with you guys, you should know we support it - you, we support  _ you. _ I mean, I don’t think any of us really thought you were - that is, that you like-” he stops, recollecting his thoughts for a moment, before beginning again resolutely, “Whatever you’re feeling, whatever and whoever you are, we’re here for you and we’re here for  _ this _ , okay?”

Andrew breathes for what feels like the first time in hours, the air puffing out from between parted lips in a  _ whoosh _ .

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Thank you.”

Shane nods once, turning back to his computer, and Andrew thinks that’s it, they can return to their editing and move on from the incredibly strange twenty minutes they just shared, but then a hand is reaching over and gently closing his laptop right in front of him.

“We’re done for the night,” the other man stands, moving into the kitchen to crack what must be his third Redbull of the night, his own computer still open and it’s obvious he intends to carry on, despite his previous statement, “get out of here, Andrew.”

“But-”

“No buts. I would never want to pressure you, Andrew, but, when you guys are together, I have never heard a joke pass from Garrett’s mouth that hasn’t been surely followed by your laugh, even when you hadn’t been revealed as my cameraman yet and you tried so hard to hold back,” a pointed look is directed Andrew’s way, “now, I could make a compilation video called  _ ‘Andrew Siwicki not laughing because he’s super jealous but won’t get his man’ _ . Besides, we both know you’re not going to be able to focus without over analysing every clip that you do or don’t hear yourself in for the rest of the night”

“I can’t just go home knowing you’re sat up editing alone, Shane.” Andrew tries one last time to protest, shaking his head and moving to reopen his computer.

“I’m not suggesting you go home, Andrew.” Despite how cryptic the words by themselves sound, they both know exactly what is being said. There’s only one place to go from here.

“It’s really late, I can’t just show up there unannounced.” it’s a lame excuse, he knows, as he has done just that a thousand times over, but this feels different somehow. It feels like  _ more _ .

“He’ll be up.”

Not even half an hour has elapsed before Andrew is standing outside the familiar door. He raises his hand to knock, but it swings open before he gets the chance.

“Andrew!” Garrett exclaims in that excited, affectionate way he always greets his best friend, “Get in here, man!”

The taller of the two turns to head back into his home, expecting to be followed, but Andrew pauses for a moment, taking in the sight of him. He’s wearing a button up shirt with a bright, abstract print and those trousers that Andrew had once told him he looked good in, a cap pushed backward over his head despite the fact that it’s gone midnight and he is in his house. It’s all so goofy and ridiculous and so utterly Garrett that Andrew can't help but wonder if he’ll ever see anything so perfect again.

By this point, Garrett has noticed his friends absence, and he turns back to face him with a smile on his lips but a furrow in his brow when he stops. They look at each other for a few moments, searching for something they both know is there somewhere but have never quite been able to reach. Now, though, it’s laid right out on their faces, clear and obvious like someone had painted their feelings across their foreheads.

“ _ Oh, _ ” Garrett sighs, and Andrew loves that he just  _ knows _ , loves that he doesn’t have to say the words aloud for him to understand, loves that he makes him want to say them anyway.

“Yeah,” he replies, voice just as quiet and breathy as his counterpart’s. Silence stretches for a long moment, and they move slowly towards each other like cars passing on a narrow, country road.

“Well, I wish I could say I didn’t see this coming, but honestly, Andrew, what  _ took _ you so long?!” Garrett exclaims, then claps a hand over his own mouth like he hadn’t meant to say the words aloud, but it makes Andrew burst into a bright, uncontrollable bout of laughter that echoes through the room and through his chest.

He’s still laughing when he blurts out, “I love you,” all bright-eyed and shaking shoulders and pure  _ bliss. _

Garrett starts to laugh then, too, shock, delight and amazement all rolled up into the sound, and he echoes the words back to him, “I love you, too,” there’s a pause then, where they both quiet down, closer than they were before in more ways than one. Then, Garrett finishes his proclamation with a straight-faced, “idiot” and Andrew  _ cackles _ .

Their laughter bounces off the walls as they clutch onto each other for support, and when their teeth click together as they kiss they laugh even more.

Andrew arrived on Garrett’s doorstep with all intentions of talking to him, working through their feelings with words and declarations and promises, but he realises, then, that he can hear everything they don’t say in Garrett’s giggles and that’s more than enough for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lmao this is a mess, like, how did we even get here  
> Also what a cop-out ending sorry sisters but I’m way better at starting things than finishing them WhOopS  
> Ready to be overwhelmed by some much needed Garrett and Andrew content on Tuesday, though

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt me?  
> Twitter, Tumblr & Wattpad all under the same name


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